She Who Kisses, Kills
by Mama Villain
Summary: Carmen has had tonnes of lovers, and she's fed up with it. Some mature ideas, but nothing too dramatic. Nyo!Spain x England as final pairing.
1. Part I: The Dates

It started as a kiss to the palm of her hand: soft and ticklish, yet teasing. It was their first date, and the look in his eyes said it all. They were glowing with admiration, much like a child meeting their hero. He had told her that the palm kiss was the first of many, much like their dates. But the second date never came. Francis never called her back.

The next kiss she received was one on the top of her right foot, placed delicately on the tattooed heart near her ankle. It was soft and innocent, unlike her lover at that time. The foot kiss was on their second date at a spa that he had owned himself. He treated her like a foreign princess, but that's all he had treated her like: foreign. There was no third date; she had called it off. Sadiq never called her back.

The third kiss she had received was one on her ear, the third date. He had taken her out to a nearby fair with a couple of his friends and their dates. Now, he was definitely a sweet man but had dangerous antics. His friends had told her that he was a bit of a stuntman and definitely a wild one, but she ignored them in favor of getting to know him. After the third date, she didn't have the energy for him, but he called it off anyways, saying that he was heading into the marines and didn't fair well with long-distance relationships. Alfred never called her back.

The fourth kiss she received were on the ear, given by two Italian men on their fourth date. They looked like they were twins, but one was older than the other by a few years. She had admired how they took care of each other and her like a princess. From the beginning, they had chosen to share her, so that the other wasn't jealous. That didn't last long. After the fourth date, the brothers were fighting over her, and - her being a pacifist - broke it off gently. Lovino and Feliciano never called her back.

The fifth kiss she received was a soft one on her nose on their fifth date. The usually busy man had a day off and decided to take her a park for the day. The two had enjoyed themselves in the quiet part of the park, petting ducks and walking through beautiful flower gardens that were trimmed by his younger brother. Her date had taken a red tulip and placed it behind her right ear before planting a small kiss on her nose, making both of them blush and smile shyly. He could always make her smile unlike the past ones. But their alone time always ended early. He had received a call from work and quite a few from his sister. He had always put work first before anything else. Benoît never called her back.

The sixth kiss was a drunkard's one. The sixth date she had been on. He was a caring man, but he had a drinking problem. So, naturally, she had met him at a bar. The night of their first kiss as a couple, he was insanely drunk, laughing and stumbling and all of that. But his strength remained in him. He had smirked at the barista then dipped his girlfriend into a drunken kiss. She could taste alcohol in his mouth, and she hated it. She couldn't deal with him. She politely called off their relationship and left. Mathias never called her back.

The seventh kiss was barely even considered a kiss due to the lightness of it and who gave it to her. It was given to her by the end of her seventh date on her doorstep. The date he had taken her on was one to a free petting zoo/pet adoption, where he had picked up a baby bunny and had given it to her with no words. It's not that he was a rude man, her date at that time was just stingy with money and a bad communicator in general, better than one of her past dates' friends. Tim never called her back.

The eighth kiss was the second most love-filled kiss she had received: a deep French kiss. Her date at that time took her on a moonlit picnic in a vast sunflower field, just the two of them. It was sweet what he has done for her, and she was grateful to the usually scary man. Their night had consisted of talking about each other, their families, and their friends – or her date's lack of friends. During the last hour of the night that waned into the morning, he had leaned over and kissed her deeply, him tasting of vodka. She was surprised but ended up kissing him back, unlike with the kisses of the past. The next day, he had told her what's been going through her mind, and she agreed. Their fire and ice romance wouldn't have worked. Ivan never called her back.

The next kiss she had been given was a simple yet intimate neck kiss, also known as the night she lost her virginity. It had been a stormy date night - the ninth date for them - before her lovely date pulled her into a deep kiss, but that doesn't mean anything. The real excitement was when he laid her back on the couch and gently placed kisses against her neck, which ended up on the floor. It was… vivid. She didn't mind it, but she didn't like it. A few weeks later, the test came back positive. Gilbert never called her back.

The last date she went on ended in a stomach kiss, right on her small baby bump. The date was pretty simple: a candlelit dinner for two with food provided by a close friend of both of them. Her date had been a total gentleman to her, even before the date.

"Tonight's been wonderful. Thank you, señor," she had said, smiling softly as her date kissed the back of her hand gently.

He smiled back warmly, standing back up to his full height whilst still holding her hand. "It's been a real delight to spend these last few months with you and the baby, my dear. And I would love to spend the rest of our months together."

"A-Are you–"

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

Arthur had definitely called her back.

* * *

First installment of my new three-part horror-esque fic. This is dedicated to my lovely hubby Chase, who gave me the idea.


	2. Part II: The Wedding & the Baby

They always said she was a pretty girl. Ever since she was born, they have always called her that. Even her father did when she was born. But today… Today was different. She looked stunning. Beautiful.

Mine.

The time couldn't pass fast enough. Every minute felt like an hour as I stood up at the slightly raised altar, sea breeze ruffling the perfectly pressed fabric of my black tuxedo. The day we had picked turned out to be a perfect one. It was just the right warm temperature, not too hot and not too cold. Perfect.

I smiled softly to myself in a rare smile in thought about the rest of my life with her and the oncoming baby. Or babies. We don't know quite yet. We had picked out a good sized cottage just outside Liverpool in a nice neighbourhood that was perfect for kids and had an amazing school system. Hopefully, our little one will love it there as much as their parents do.

Now, the procession was starting. I heard the soft playing of a piano from a small makeshift stage off to the side, played by none other than Roderich Edelstein. He wasn't a bad pianist, just someone my dear doesn't like. And I would rather my new wife not be upset on our wedding day, a day to be celebrated.

Speaking of my new wife, here she came, slowly sliding down the red carpeted aisle. She looked stunning in her dress, her baby bump obvious. Most say that a pregnant woman in a wedding dress isn't appealing. Well, they're wrong. My darling looked amazing, making everyone else look horrible. She would soon be my wife, and that's all that matters.

It was definitely surprising and amusing to see her being walked down by both of her brothers. The older of the two brothers had a sharper glare directed towards me than the other. I could practically feel the fire from his glare burning my soul up. I tried telling him that I had nothing to do with his sister's pregnancy, but he only became madder. I just let him think it from then on.

Oh, but that's not the best part. The best part was my soon-to-be wife. She looked absolutely stunning, as I stated previously. She had decided on a cloud-white strapless ballroom gown that made her appear as a princess from the sky. Her maroon-esque curly hair was pulled back into a tight braided bun with curly strands shaping her flawless skin. Oh, she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. I could feel myself getting hot under the collar, she was that beautiful. She was made even beautiful with the lace veil covering her face and the expert lacework accenting her baby bump. She had the motherly glow that completed the package deal also known as my wife.

Just before the main step up onto the altar, my almost-wife and her brothers stopped, leaning in to do whatever they did. One of them must have said something to upset her because I saw her elbow him in the stomach area, causing the other brother to laugh quietly. I gently smiled at their antics before helping her up onto the altar on her side of the priest.

"You look amazing…" I muttered, watching her hand the bouquet off to her maid of honor before I took her hands in mine.

She smiled softly, a soft blush rising to her cheeks. "Thank you. You look good too," she muttered just enough for us two to hear.

I smiled as well, bringing her hands up to kiss the backs of them. "Thank you, my dear, but you look much better." That earned a brighter smile from her. Oh, she looked beautiful with a smile of any kind. Those guys – I'm not even going to classify them as men – before me lost such an amazing woman due to their ignorance. She was absolutely perfect.

The priest nodded to the both of us before starting his speech. "Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today…" He continued on. I simply drowned his voice out and focused on my almost-wife and the oncoming baby – or babies. We were going to have an amazing life together, no matter how many little ones we'll have running around.

Soon enough, it was time for the vows to be recited. We had decided on the standard vows given, since we were caught up in other things such as the nursery and my busy job as a doctor. There was just no time in our schedules to add another thing to plan.

"Do you, Arthur Eugene Kirkland, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health, 'til death do you part?" the priest asked.

I smiled softly and answered calmly, "I do. I will forever." I brought one of her hands up to my lips and kissed the back of her hand, causing her to blush lightly.

The priest nodded and turned to my fiancée/almost wife. "And do you, Carmen Isabel Fernández-Carriedo, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health, 'til death do you part?"

"I-I do." I could tell she was fighting back happy tears as she answered, her voice somewhat broken, but it was still music to my ears.

"By the power invested by me in the name of God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride." The priest stepped out of the way as I let go of my new wife's hands to push up the veil away from her face.

"You're absolutely stunning, love," I muttered before holding her cheeks gently. "May I kiss you?"

She nodded softly, crying happy tears. "Of course you can," she whispered.

I smiled softly and gently pulled her into a soft kiss, moving my hands down to hold her soft ones. The invitees had started clapping, but I didn't care. All that cared to me was my new wife and our oncoming baby.

And nothing else.

* * *

Something happened. The crying just stopped abruptly. My wife got up and went to check the nursery only to return back with a bloody blanket, the one that I had made for our newborn son.

The whole image just broke my heart. She was crying on the floor, holding the pastel yellow blanket tightly to her chest. I got down right there with her and just held her, no sounds except her cries. There wasn't much I could do about this except to call the police. It just hurt to hear her cry or make any other sound, whether pain or sadness.

He wasn't even weaned off his mother's milk, let alone a month old. He was completely innocent, a pure soul in the world. He didn't deserve this. His mother didn't deserve this. No one deserved the pain of losing their flesh and blood.

I hung up my personal phone and just held my wife to my chest, her on my lap. She couldn't stop crying. I had to fight myself from crying. I had to be strong.

"H-He did nothing wrong!" she sobbed, gripping my night shirt tightly. Her head was buried into my chest as I felt her warm tears cascade down abdomen.

I sighed shakily and rubbed her back. She shouldn't have to go through this pain. No mother should. "I know, love. We'll find the one who did this. I promise. Michael's death won't go unpaid for." I tried my best to soothe her tears, but that could only go so far.

Gently, I scooped her up into my less-than-muscular arms and got myself up carefully. My wife was still clutching the bloody baby blanket to her chest, her warm tears still sliding down her pale cheeks. It seemed she was never going to let go of that blanket, no matter how hard or how long I convince her to. But the cold, hard truth was still there:

We had lost our only son.

* * *

Aaaaaaaa- I dedicate this chapter to my husbands Chase and Georgie! Love you too bunches!


	3. Part III Chapter One: Adnan, Beilschmidt

_**Adnan, Sadiq**_

 _ **Age:**_ _27_

 _ **Gender:**_ _Male_

 _ **Case:**_ _Murder_

 _ **Details:**_ _Body was found with third degree burns inside an oven; no clues were found as to who murdered the victim except a small red heart left inside the victim's hat._

They found him quite easily, working hard cleaning up his kitchen after a long day. He had casted aside his chef coat and poofy hat that his friend/enemy always mocked him about before falling asleep on the floor.

"You sure you don't need any help cleaning? My ride won't be here for a little bit," his friend Wang Yao called, halfway out the back door of the kitchen where they would receive the food deliveries.

"Nah. I think I got it! Thanks though!" the Turkish cook called, grinning to himself as he scrubbed at the dishes with intense anger, almost as if he was scrubbing the face off his enemy: Herakles Karpusi. Oh, how he hated that lousy, lazy Greek cat man! Although they hung out together when they were younger, they never had a great relationship. At all. How sad.

His Chinese friend - Wang Yao - nodded. "If you say so, lǎobǎn." And with that, Adnan's last saving grace left the back of the expensive restaurant, the door shutting loudly behind him as he called out in rapid Mandarin into his phone.

With a determined look, the Turk continued grinning, scrubbing away at the last pot before pulling at his collar. _It's sure getting hot in here…_ he thought to himself as he glanced around the empty pristine kitchen. His chocolate brown eyes landed on the thermostat by the door, a 'hm' leaving his lips. It was still at the same temperature as earlier in the day. "Weird… If someone's here and playin' a trick on me, it ain't workin'," he called out in his thick Turkish accent. He was answered with a shuffle from the food and spices pantry after a few seconds of full silence.

Setting down the pot he was washing, the Turk turned off the water and pulled out a meat cleaver, heading towards the pantry slowly and quietly. He stopped just in front of the thick metal door with his free hand hovering over the handle before hearing an unforgettable voice come from behind him.

"I'm amused to see you in a place like this, mi amigo," the voice practically purred.

He turned on his heel to see his ex-girlfriend sitting on the sauce counter, a small yet rather sharp knife in her hands. She was twisting it around her fingers idly with a smirk on her lips, the rouge shade of her lipstick matching the bright - _blood_ \- red of her dress that clung to her body in all the right places. It was at this time that he wondered why he ever broke up with such a hot damn _sexy_ lady.

With his own smirk playing on his lips, Adnan stepped closer to her with calculated steps. "You shouldn't be, bal. This was your idea."

"What a shame, Sadiq. You could have had a better life with me, but never mind." The lady in red got down carefully, gazing at her diamond ring on her left hand ring finger. It shone and glimmered in the bright light of the kitchen, and it struck a string in the Turk's heart.

"You were the one to break it off with me, so I have to give it to you." He shrugged and grinned, gently taking her hands into his, relishing at how soft they still were. "Are you married finally?"

"Yes. I am." She pulled her hands out of his and flipped her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder. "Now, I have a question for you, and you have to answer truthfully."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Shoot, hanımım."

"Do you know about the murder of a little boy named Michael Niles Kirkland?" she asked with a serious look on her features. Her emerald green orbs gazed intently into her ex-boyfriends' pair, a burning fire behind her own.

"I can't say that I have. Though, I don't do murder. You know that. Well, ya should know that. Why do ya-" He was interrupted by a knife up to his neck, the same one his ex was playing with earlier. "Wha-"

The lady in red huffed, pressing the knife up against above where his Adam's Apple was. "That's all I needed to know. Arturo! Ready the oven!" From behind them, the pantry door opened, and shuffling was heard, including the opening of one of the industrial ovens. "Sorry, but I have to kill you now."

Her victim tried to back up, only to have arms come up from behind him. "It won't last too long. Just don't be too loud, or I'll make it more of a slow, painful death for you, hm?"

That was the last thing Sadiq Adnan heard before being roughly shoved into the oven, the intense heat making him pass out.

* * *

 _ **Beilschmidt, Gilbert**_

 _ **Age:**_ _24_

 _ **Gender:**_ _Male_

 _ **Case:**_ _Murder_

 _ **Details:**_ _body was found with a sword through the neck; murder did not leave prints as they were wearing gloves; witnesses say that the murderer had disappeared in a smoke bomb; second red heart was attached to the sword via elastic band; band was sent in for DNA testing at 13:07._

"We now welcome to the ring… Saturday night's most favourite knight and our very own Teutonic Knight: Sir Gilbert Beilschmidt!" The announcer called, moving out of the center of the dusty ring to make way for that night's reenactment star.

The man that had walked out holding his sword over his head had the most exquisite silver hair that made even old ladies - and some men - swoon. His eyes were red like no one had ever seen.

And everybody loved him.

The white knight grinned brightly, almost as bright as his ego. "Anon. Cometh f'rward any challeng'rs, so that i may happily conv'rt thou to bones and blood!" He would never kill anyone. Not in any case except for self-protection.

The knight waited in the ring for his pre-show appointed duel partner before a cloaked man stepped out, the hood covering his face from both the crowd and the knight.

The white-haired knight lowered his sword but kept his grin, glancing over the man. "It seems we have a taker! What's your name, woodland creature?"

"Just call me Britannia," the cloaked figure stated lowly. "I hast cometh to battleth thou f'r the princess' heart," he announced loudly.

Gilbert smirked, brandishing his sword in an instigating way. "I doeth not usually mortal arbitrament f'r princesses, but i'm always up f'r new things."

'Britannia' unsheathed his own sword and held it against Gilbert's own. "Good." And thus, the two swordsmen engaged in a violent but flashy sword dance, the arena's dust flying up around them as the moved to a steady fighting beat.

With a simple flourish and a flick of the wrist, 'Britannia' twisted his sword to toss his opponent's weapon in the air, landing tip-first into the fresh dust behind the challenger. He smirked under his hood as he said his next words in a formal but devious tone: "I will be thy endeth, thou w'rthless knight of silv'r."

Gilbert was astonished. Not only was the fight exhilarating, but it was extremely entertaining. He held his pale hands up in mock surrender as he felt 'Britannia's sword tip at his Adam's Apple. "I shall happily accepteth mine loss, thy majesty," he stated valiantly. He moved to lower himself to one knee, but the sword at his throat commanded otherwise. "My king…?"

His opponent removed his hood to reveal shaggy blond hair and darkened forest green eyes. "My princess only." He then quickly thrust his sword through the knight's throat, using a smoke bomb to make his leave and avoid the prying eyes of the stunned crowd.

* * *

Oh look. A wild chapter. The reason this is called Part III, Chapter One is that I have decided to make the murders into chapters of their own. Up next is Bonnefoy and Braginsky. Happy reading, my little nerds!

~ Mama Ryan-Marie


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